A Promise Kept
by politiksandprose
Summary: That night he kisses Tasha hard and fierce and he feels her smile into his lips, her nails clawing their way down his back. And he just wants to punch the damn wall because he's kissing Tasha, and he's touching Tasha but all he can picture, all he can feel is his Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose. (Dimitri POV one-shot)


**a/n: **Hi guys! I'm new to the VA fandom, so this is my very first VA fic. I know this has been done ad-naseum at this point, but in this, Dimitri left Rose to guard Tasha three years ago and now they come face to face as he and Tasha come to court to celebrate the holidays. I had to tap into my inner-Dimitri for this, so I hope you all enjoy :)

* * *

Dimitri held back a smile as Rose attempted to kick him, but he dodged and she let out a small huff of frustration. She looked beautiful – her long hair twisted up away from her face in a bun, her face sheening with a layer of sweat accumulated from the hours of training they'd just put in. He retaliated, swiftly bringing his legs around her, kicking her own legs from under her. Her eyes widened in shock as her body flew downwards, and his own body followed her just a second later. He pinned her down, his fingers pressing into her wrist as he held them down, her body wriggling under his.

"I win, Roza." He whispered, finally letting the smile grace his lips.

"That was a cheap shot," she mumbled, not looking at him.

His smile grew. "I won fair and square," he said, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek. "But I can still make it up to you."

He brought his face closer to her, his body still skimming over hers. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he felt her body respond under him, drawing him closer to her and he brushed his lips against Rose's. He felt her smile into his lips, and he licked his way into her mouth, grabbing another fistful of her hair in his hands. A few seconds later, they pulled away to take a breathe and he moved his lips from hers down to her neck, littering her skin with kisses as light as a butterfly's touch. He heard her moan his name softly under her breath and he …

He woke up, his breathing ragged, the blankets kicked off of him. He turned in his bed, and felt an arm wrap around his waist. He let his fingers tangle in her hair, the way he just had a few seconds ago in his dream except this time, it wasn't the silky dark brown curls he loved so much. It was Tasha's black mane and as soon as he registered her name in his head, he felt an enormous wave of guilt wash over him, nearly drowning him.

He didn't mean to do things like that – think of Rose, and dream of Rose. Not when the woman lying his bed _wasn't_ Rose. Not even close. But he couldn't help it – the instant he let his mind wander, it seemed that she was the only place it wanted to go. That was, until he reminded himself that Rose wasn't his to think of anymore. She had stopped being his the instant he had listened to the very girl that consumed his thoughts and took up Tasha on her offer. And he couldn't change that now, no matter how often he found himself wishing he could.

He was just waiting for his subconscious to catch up with reality.

* * *

He manages not to think of her, not dream of her for almost a week and he thinks that it's a show of his self-control, because maybe he's finally learning to gain control not over just his actions but his subconscious as well.

Which is why, when Tasha tells him, her beautiful face flushed with excitement, that they're going to spend the holidays at Court with Lissa and Christian, he's tempted to ask her if she's kidding. Because she must be, right?

But she's not, and he won't, so he just paints a careful mask of indifference on his face and nods his head, letting her know he'll be packed and ready when she needs him to be and then heads down to his in-home gym.

* * *

That night he kisses Tasha hard and fierce and he feels her smile into his lips, her nails clawing their way down his back. And he just wants to punch the damn wall because he's kissing Tasha, and he's touching Tasha but all he can picture, all he can feel is Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose. And he's not sure how he's supposed to handle being in Court with her.

* * *

The drive to Court is painfully long and as he navigates through the snowy terrain, he wonders if he'll even have to see Rose. He hasn't been all that good – at least not with where his thoughts stray so he can't exactly count on good Karma to help him out, but he hopes that maybe God will take some pity on him as He has in the past.

The last two Christmases were spent at his and Tasha's house, and Christian and Lissa had brought their guardians along with them – including a replacement for Rose.

"Rose is in Turkey with Adrian" he had heard Lissa tell Tasha as they pranced around the kitchen, soft holiday tunes playing in the background. His heart was in his mouth and he found it difficult to breathe until Lissa, oblivious to his eavesdropping added, "They're just friends" to a gossiping Tasha who was wondering about Rose and Adrian's relationship.

And he remembered letting out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding in because, even though he shoudn't care, and even though he _can't_ care, he still did. And as much as it kills him to admit it, even silently to himself, he didn't think he could have handled the idea of Rose with anyone but him.

(he found it absurd that still, two years later, absolutely nothing had changed.)

* * *

They're only in court for fifteen days. _Fifteen._ He knows he can make it. And at first, he almost hopes against hope that he'll somehow manage avoiding seeing Rose during his stay. It turns out Rose and Adrian have lefty again to see her dad; but this time, Lissa tells them, Abe's meeting them in Paris and only God knows what infamous mobster Abe could be doing in the city of love, Dimitri thinks.

And that's when he realizes that Rose is in the city of love. With Adrian. Where love is supposedly in the air and even the least romantic of things can seem like they're straight out of nineties romance film that Tasha loves to watch so much.

And suddenly, he wishes with all he has to see Rose while he's here. Because honestly, he's not sure he'll be able to leave court if he doesn't.

* * *

It's only four days later, two days after Christmas, when Tasha off-handedly mentions that Rose is back, and now she can finally give her her present, when he suddenly feels alive with an insane feeling of energy. Or maybe he's just alive with the feeling of Rose … though he's trying so very hard to deny that. And even though he's just gotten out of the shower, and he's just put on the nice forest green sweater that Tasha has given him for Christmas, he peels it off moments later and replaces his nicer ensemble for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and heads to the gym despite every fiber in his being screaming out in alarm, warning him that this is a bad idea. Because if he knows Rose, which he does, he knows that at some point in the day, she'll end up there too.

And he'll be damned if he's not there when it happens.

* * *

He's clocking in his third hour at the gym when his eyes wander towards the entrance for what feels like the umpteenth time and he finally sees her. Her hair's a little shorter than he remembers, her body slimmer yet curvier and he knows that his imagination did her no justice. She looks confident and amazing and for a moment, he has no clue why he left her to begin with.

And he idly wonders if she knows he's there – if she can feel his presence the way he felt hers just moments ago. He watches as her lean body bends over in stretches for a few minutes before heading towards the sparring mats with a guardian he's seen around court in the past few days. Her eyes narrow in determination as she crouches, but the mischievous smirk playing on her lips never quite leaves her face as she goes back and forth with her momentary enemy. It only takes her three minutes to throw the man on the floor, her knees pinning him down as she smiles in triumph.

She only gives herself a long enough break to catch her breath and gulp down the contents of two water bottles before she's up on the mat again, this time facing her old-friend Eddie. And he realizes, with a tug in his heart that has nothing to do with the strain he's putting on it by running his eleventh mile that maybe she doesn't feel him anymore the way he feels her. That, or she's ignoring him and doing a damn good job of it too.

He isn't sure which one's a harder pill to swallow.

* * *

He's not sure what he's expecting in that moment when he talks to her for the first time again – maybe a moment where time momentarily stands still, or this grandiose moment full of greatness and … and … something. Anything.

But instead, when he finally talks to rose, it's an awkward exchange as he's stepping out of the gym with sweat rolling down his back and she's coming out of the locker room, her wet hair tied at the top of her head. She doesn't look surprised, or caught off guard the way he feels. She simply nods her head curtly, and gives him a small, polite smile. Her voice doesn't even sound like her own as she mutters, "Guardian Belikov" before stepping out of his way and walking away.

* * *

It's wrong, he _knows_ it's wrong, but when they're sitting at Lissa and Christian's dinner table that night, with Rose seated right in front of him, Adrian to her right, he can't help but feel a tightening in his chest and he catches Rose's unnerving icy demeanor change for just a split second when Tasha lays her hand on his on top of the oak table, her fingers weaving with his.

It's not outright jealousy – not the green monster that used to rear its head back in the day when Rose had just met Tasha and everything between them was still … well, not good, but better than it is now.

… But still, it's something. And when he feels Tasha squeeze his hand absent-mindedly, it doesn't even compare to the squeeze he felt in his heart just a mere second ago when he thought Rose almost looked jealous and spends the rest of dinner drowning in his guilt, because he just doesn't know where to go from here and it's a feeling that he's just not used to.

* * *

To his utter surprise, Rose doesn't down-right ignore him the next day when she sees him at the gym.

Instead, she sits down at the machine next to him and starts a conversation, first with the guardian to his right, but eventually brings her attention towards him. She asks him how he's doing, and to his amazement, there's not even a hint of sarcasm in her words. He tells her he's been good, and they talk for a few more minutes, catching up like he would with just another one of his colleagues. She stands up after three reps and tells him she's going to go for a run, but that it's been really good to see him again, and she says it all with an earnest that surprises him.

As she's leaving, he can't help but admire just how much she's matured, and how much of an adult she's become just in these years that he's been gone. But it also makes him sad because not only was he not there to watch this transformation, but he also kind of misses the spunky Rose Hathaway – the one with wit dripping from each word and a wicked smirk on her face at all times.

That's why when, just as she's almost out the door and he calls out to her saying, "We should spar sometime, Rose. For old-times sake" and she turns around, a smirk on her face, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and says "Sounds good, comrade. I'd love to kick your ass" he can't really stop his smile from eating his entire face because maybe, just maybe, she can still read his mind just as well as she used to be able to.

* * *

He wonders if she knows how much of an unfair advantage she has when she comes to the sparring mats the following day wearing nothing but shorts that hug her too closely and a sports bra.

His eyes can't focus on anything but the way her waist curves and cinches and the way her perfectly olive skin glistens with sweat and his fingers can't think of anything but the feel of her skin under his and her hair – her beautiful, silky hair—and … Damn. His senses are overwhelmed.

Despite all that, he still manages to put up a good fight but he can't say he's all the surprised when he finds his head hitting the mats hard, Rose's body pouncing on his only a millisecond later.

Her voice is course as she rasps out, "Dead," looking him straight in the eyes, and he sort of starts to loose himself in them. She lifts herself off of him a second later and offers him a hand, the typical Rose-Hathaway-Smirk plastered on her face.

"This was too easy," she laughs and he agrees - he was off his game. But his admission only leads to a frown on her face.

"Then this doesn't count - we'll have to re-match." And he laughs at that, too because of course, always-proud Rose can't call this a victory if he says he didn't put his all into it.

He nods his head, "Okay, but this time why don't we bet on it?"

She attempts to quirk an eyebrow, but ends up pulling both eyebrows up into a surprised expression. "A bet?"

He nods again, "Sure. If I win, which I'm fairly sure I will, you buy me coffee. You win, I buy you coffee."

She wrinkles her nose at that a little, "Make it a Frappuccino and I'm in."

* * *

That night, Tasha wants to take everyone out to dinner so he pulls on his black slacks, white shirt and his duster – his guardian clothing - and leaves with Tasha. He's surprised to see Rose in her guardian clothing as well – though he would hardly call what _she's_ wearing guardian clothing. Replacing the largely unflattering black slacks with dark colored jeans and a flowing white top instead of the stiff button up paired with a short, tight black blazer and black combat boots … and he can't even take his eyes off of her.

He would have thought they would just be bringing extra guards, because after the last few days, despite their somewhat new friendship, he really hadn't thought she'd want to spend extra time around him.

But instead, she comes down stairs and meets them with a smile on her face. She steals the car keys before anyone can say anything, and he piles into the back with the other guardians – both from Rose's graduating class – as Adrian takes the passenger seat. As she's pulling out of the parking spot, she fidgets with the radio until she finds a song she likes – an annoyingly catchy tune about "call me, maybe" and Christian complains loudly about it from his seat in between Lissa and Tasha.

When they get there, he finds himself sitting in front of Rose again, except that this time she includes him in her conversation and even though his girlfriend is sitting next to him, he can't help but feel jittery with excitement that maybe they can truly be friends again.

That is, until Tasha leans over to kiss the side of his mouth and Rose's words escape her midsentence. Only a second later, her guardian mask find its way back to her features, and her conversations are now just hushed whispers and quiet chuckles with Adrian.

And it kills him that she's gotten just as good as him in putting up the guardian mask.

* * *

The next time Rose comes into the gym, she's wearing a real, baggy shirt and pants that go down to her ankles and he thanks God because honestly, he needed to focus his concentration elsewhere and he just can't when she's wearing what she wore the last time they sparred.

She smiles at him, and seems to have forgotten the awkwardness he knows they both felt at the restaurant the night before. She has her game face on as she approaches him at the mats, and as they both crouch down in their defensive stances, Dimitri notices that her lips are a little plumper than usual, swollen in a way that makes his blood curdle. And suddenly, his mind goes crazy with possibilities of what she could have been doing the night before after they all got back, and worse - with whom. She doesn't seem to notice his internal reverie, and kicks him square in the jaw. He rubs his face for a second before retaliating with a punch to her gut, but he misses and he swears under his breath because he knows he's about to lose, again.

* * *

He doesn't mean to blurt it out the way he does, but lately, it looks like his self-control is becoming almost non-existent. At least, when it comes to Roza. But then again, it always has been this way.

But when he asks her, "Are you and Adrian together?" he can't really regret it either because, God, he wants to know so badly it's eating him alive. Because who else could have made her lips look like that?

She looks up at him, shock reflecting in her features, but anger beginning to simmer in her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business," she starts, taking a sip of the caramel frappacino he's just bought her, "But no. Adrian's just a friend."

And he knows he should just take that and not push it because really, he's lucky she hasn't sucker punched him already. But he's a masochist at this point, so he continues. "Are you dating anyone?"

And she narrows her eyes into little slits, before shaking her head in a way that lets him know that he really did push it too far.

"Dimitri, _you _left me. Without telling me why, without giving me any sort of _real_ reason. And it took me a lot longer than I'd care to admit to pick up the pieces. So don't come in here and try to pry into my life. I'm not prying into yours, and you have no right to pry into mine. I don't think I owe you any explanation about who I'm dating or not dating." She hisses, in a voice so calm and clipped that it scares him.

Because though he's been noticing it this entire time, it really hits me now how much she's changed. How very little of the angry, spunky, crazy Roza that he loved so much is left. And that kills him.

* * *

He lifts himself out of his chair the second she rises from hers, but in the time it takes for him to pull out a five dollar bill to leave on the table for her drink, she's already out of the café, storming the court halls like a hurricane on feet.

He chases after her, and though it takes him a minute to catch up, he finally does and he dares to put a hand on her arm.

She recoils like she's been stung and he flinches a little at that although he tries to hide it.

"You need to hear me out." He tells her, because he can see it in her eyes, in the way she can't stand for him to touch her, that she still doesn't understand why he left her. He thought that maybe as time went on and as her dreams became her reality, that she'd understand. But she hasn't, and she hates him for it. And he can't stand that – can't stand the way she's looking at him right now with anger raging in her beautiful brown eyes and he just _needs_ her to hear him out.

His eyes bore into hers as he loosens his grip on her arm, "I didn't leave because I didn't care about you, Roza. I didn't … I didn't leave because I didn't lo—"

She cuts him off, anger radiating off of her in waves. "I don't care why you left, Dimitri. I just care that you did. You left. And now you're back and I thought that I could be around you and I thought that I could be your friend but … but I can't. I don't feel anything for you anymore, Dimitri. But I just can't handle seeing you. I can't handle talking to you. I thought I could, but I can't."

And in the time it takes for him to register her words in his head, she's already halfway down the corridor and he just doesn't have it in him to stop her again. But he's also partially stunned, because all this time, she'd tricked him into believing that her façade of indifference was real.

And now that he knows it's not, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

(And yes, he did hear the part where she told him she didn't feel anything for him anymore but he just can't believe that. He can't.)

* * *

Rose doesn't talk to him much for the next few days unless she's making polite pleasantries during the meals they end up sharing at Lissa's and she spends more and more time with Adrian and although the man hasn't done anything to make Dimitri hate him, and although Adrian's shown his good intentions with Rose through the way he's treated her in the past few years, Dimitri can't help it. He hates Adrian Ivashkov.

Because just as always, any sense of control, any sense of right and wrong just goes out the window when it comes to Rose.

* * *

It's New Year's Eve and although it surprises him, Tasha's invited to the Queen's gala. He's sure it has a little bit of something to do with Lissa.

He's just finished pulling his suit on when Tasha steps out of the bathroom donning a beautiful floor-length gown, the emerald green of the silk matching his tie. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face, showing her scar off proudly, and his heart does something funny in his chest for a second. He leans in to kiss her, and he tells her she looks beautiful because truly, she does. She smiles widely and laces her fingers with his before leading him out of their condo to the ballroom on the other side of court.

And he thinks maybe he'll get one night of guilt-less sleep if he just pays attention to his beautiful girlfriend and the way she made his heart feel a few seconds ago, and not the girl he _used _to love.

* * *

That thought flies right out of his mind the second he sees Rose enter the ballroom, her arm hooked around Adrian's, and he swears under his breath because he really had thought he'd be able to spend one night staring at the_ right_ girl and feeling completely not-guilty.

Her dress is black and sparkling, and it glides along the floor with every step she takes in her silver-heel clad feet. Her taut, toned arms are wrapped in a light material that shows her skin right through it, and right when he begins to think that the dress is a bit modest for Rose's usual taste, his eyes drift to the bottom of the dress where he spies a long slit through the side of the dress.

When she takes her next step, her leg gloriously makes an appearance, the dangerously high slit stopping just where her thigh ends. He loses Tasha a few seconds later as she starts making rounds and talking to the few people who still bother to acknowledge her existence and his eyes are focused on just Rose. She talks to a few people, and dances with Adrian, his arms

Tasha reappears a little while later and when he turns to look at Tasha – the person he _should_ have been looking at all along, Rose disappears from his line of sight. He looks around the dance floor, but when he can't find her, he slips out of the ballroom, and follows the stairs he remembers climbing years ago to a rooftop. He reaches the top and finds Rose sitting on the ledge, the sun reflecting beautifully on her face, her skin prickling with goose bumps. He can't help but feel a bit of déjà vu.

He walks up to her, and she doesn't notice him until he slips off his coat and slips it on her shoulders. She looks up at him wearily, but doesn't take off the jacket which he thinks is a good sign. He sits down next to her and he's surprised when she doesn't automatically tell him off.

He took a deep breath, and organized his thoughts quickly because he had so much to say and just not enough time. But this was his chance, and he wasn't going to miss it. "Rose … when I left –"

She put her hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him mid-sentence. "You don't owe me any sort of explanation Dimitri."

He shook his head, because if he owed _anyone_ anything, it was her. "I do –"

"No, really. You don't. And I'm sorry about the other day – I was just … It wasn't fair of me to say those things to you. You're only here for a few more days and I think it'd be best for everyone if we just were friendly instead of this … weird, hostile … whatever it is that we're doing."

There was so much he needed to tell her, so much he wanted to clear up, but this time he truly did know that he should be taking what she was giving him instead of putting his foot in his mouth for once so he nodded, and smiled at her.

"I'd like that," He told her.

* * *

Tasha tells him the grand plan the night before they're supposed to execute it, and he can't help but feel alive with the buzz of excitement coursing through his blood.

Him and Rose are supposed to take Christian to a jewelry shop Tasha "just swears by" in search of the perfect engagement ring in New York City, just seven hours outside of Court. They'll stay the night in New York and come back the next day. Meanwhile, Tasha will keep Lissa busy with "bonding time" until the three of them come back.

The ride there is just as he suspected – a lot of incessant bickering and bantering between Christian and Rose, but eventually Christian falls asleep and Rose starts fiddling around with the radio in search of something catchy. He catches her hand, and drops it back into her lap before pressing a button, letting his favorite country tunes fill the car.

She looks up at him, a smirk on her face, shaking her head and laughing, "Really, Comrade?"

But then he catches her humming along a few minutes later, her fingers drumming on her thigh and he can't stop the smile that fights its way to his face.

* * *

The jewelry store is torturous, and he he's pretty sure that the three of them are never getting back to Court because every ring Christian likes, Rose doesn't and vice versa.

Rose, impatient as she is, finally gives up, claiming that she needs a break, and stalks out of the store. And though Dimitri knows probably shouldn't follow her, he does anyway and they end up leaning on the side of the building of the store, hot dogs from a nearby vendor in hand. He laughs at the way she eats, and she glares at him playfully when he reaches over to wipe a glob of relish that's hanging off of her chin. And they talk, and somehow it's so comfortable that it's hard to believe that years have gone by since they've been this normal around one another.

They head back in a few minutes later, and almost as if by miracle, Christian and Rose finally agree on a ring that Dimitri thinks looks a hell of a lot like a bunch of the other ones they've looked at but he's not about to voice his opinion on this matter any time soon.

When they're done, they all head to a sports bar only a block from their hotel, and as soon as they sit down, Christian's already screaming about some football game that's on TV. Rose stands and goes to the bar and comes back a few minutes later with three beers in her hand and for a second Dimitri wants to give her a stern talk about under-age drinking until he remembers that years have passed and now she is of legal age.

Dimitri accepts it, but reminds himself that this one's his limit – he's still on guarding duty. So is Rose, but she continues on to a second and third beer and somehow, in an unusual show of friendship, both Christian and her decide on a few shots before calling it a night. It surprises him that Rose isn't drunk, but she's definitely tipsy by the end, and the walk back to their hotel becomes a bit more amusing than he'd initially expected because at this point, Rose and Christian will laugh at just about anything.

He leads Christian into his room before leading Rose to hers. And just as he's opening the door for her, he catches her eyes, and his heart rumbles violently in his chest. Her eyes, dark brown and beautiful, glaze over with lust as she focuses on his lips, and his hands automatically slide to her hips. Her fingers clutch at his shirt, bringing him closer and even though he knows this is wrong – _so wrong_, he leans his face down closer to hers. Just when her lips are about to skim his, he hears a click and springs apart from her, still holding her but at a distance and his head leans into the direction of the noise. It's Christian, oblivious to the two of them, stepping out of his room and heading towards the vending machines.

When he looks back towards Rose, her focus is on the ground, her skin tinged a light shade of pink as she slides her hotel card to open the door. She slips inside, and looks up at him, her brown eyes clouded with confliction.

"Good night, Dimitri." She tells him before shutting the door.

* * *

He's restless in his room after that, and he doesn't know what to do. He wants to see Rose again, but he's not sure that's a good idea. At least not now. He pulls off shirt and pulls on his pajama pants, reclining on the sofa in the room, TV remote in hand, hoping that maybe staring at something brainlessly for a while would lull him to sleep. But after a few minutes of aimlessly flipping through channels, he clicks the TV off and heads outside, ice-bucket in hand. At least that'll give him something to do for a few minutes.

He's rounding the corner to the small alcove where the ice machine and vending machines are lined up when he finds Rose, clad in large shirt that skims just the bottom of her butt, ice bucket clutched in her fingers.

She looks up at him sheepishly, and says, "Couldn't sleep, either?"

He shakes his head no, and she says, "Me either."

She doesn't look half as tipsy as she did before, and he thinks the buzz must have worn off. She bites her lips before opening her mouth to speak again, and this time she's a little hesitant.

"Do you wanna come hangout for a bit?" She asks, her eyes raking over his bare chest and he nods. He follows her back into her room, ice bucket forgotten and when she looks up at him from under her eyelashes again, her dark eyes seemingly darker, hotel card in her fingers, he swears he's feeling déjà vu. Except this time, when he leans in to kiss her, there's nothing to stop him – no extra noise, no Christian, and his mouth finally makes its way to hers. Without moving her lips from his, she slides the door open, and the two of them stumble in. He makes sure to shut the door behind them before cornering her against the wall, his tongue skimming the seam of her lips. Her mouth opened in a moan as her fingers felt to his hair, and he felt her press her body against his.

Moving his lips from hers, he places kisses down her jaw, inhaling the scent of Rose, _his_ Rose that he's missed so much. She leads him to her unmade bed, and his hands slide down her bare thigh, leaving shivers in their trail. He pulls her thigh around his waist and he settles himself between her.

His hands, on their own accord, begin to graze the hem of her shirt, and that's when her hands fall to his, pulling them back up, her lips breaking away from his.

"We can't…" she shakes her head, her arms still around him. "We can't do _that_. Not while you're with Tasha." And he's amazed at what wonder, amazing woman she's become over the last few years, because the old Rose he knew wouldn't have thought of the consequences, wouldn't have thought of anything but the and the here.

So he nods, and he tells her that she's right, and just when he's about to slip out of the bed, her fingers clasp around his and she pulls him back. They just lay under the covers, his arms holding her close to him, and he feels whole for the first time in too long. They talk for a little while, and she shifts in his arms to face him. Her hair is messy, and her lips are plump from making out and he doesn't think any other look suits her better.

She hooks her bare leg around his, and softly strokes his cheek, brushing stray hairs away. "I missed you," she says, and then her eyes widen a second later as though the words had just slipped out and she hadn't meant for them too.

He pulls her hand in his, and brings it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. "I love you," he tells her honestly.

And he knows he's said the wrong thing when she shifts back from him, her eyes wide in horror, her voice course. "No, no. Dimitri, don't. Don't do this."

He squints at her in confusion, "Don't do … what?"

"Don't do _this_, now. Don't tell me you love me. This …" she says, her hands swirling around them, "this is supposed to be good-bye. You're not supposed to …"

"Goodbye?"

She nods, "When you left it felt so ... incomplete. This was supposed to be _closure,_ Dimitri. This is it. You can't love me. You _don't_ love me."

He moves closer to her afraid that maybe she'll slip away from him, his eyes wide with worry. "Rose, this _can't _be it. I mean what I said - I love you. I have always loved you."

She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears that he knows she won't shed because she's Rose, and she's the strongest person he knows. "You can't say that. You're not allowed to say that. You're with Tasha. You left me for Tasha. You made that choice a long time ago."

And he knows she's right, and he knows, _God_, he knows he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be saying these things but he can't stop. "Rose, I left because I wanted what was best for _you._ I wanted you to focus one-hundred percent on your training. I wanted you to be the best you could be. I didn't want to stand in your way."

"You weren't standing in my way, Dimitri. _You_ are the reason that I'm as good as I am today. But that doesn't matter anymore. None of that matters. What matters is that you're with her, Dimitri. You're with Tasha, and you can't be with me, too."

And that's when he says the thing that he's wanted to for so long, but knew that he shouldn't have. "I have never loved Tasha the way I love you. I dream about you, I think about when Tasha and I …"

He can't continue that sentence. "I am in love with you, Roza. I can't keep going on pretending that I am not."

And then he watches the look in her eyes change as her resolve falters and her hands move to him on their own accord and she kisses him.

She kisses him differently from before and this time, when he tugs at her shirt, she doesn't stop him.

* * *

He wakes up the next morning, Roza tucked to his side. Her legs are tangled with his, her chest slowly rising and falling with her breaths against his. He pulls her closer to him, and buries his fingers in her hair.

He hasn't felt this content in too long, and he feels bad for feeling that way because it wasn't Tasha's fault that he wasn't content – his heart just wants what it wants. And what it wants is his Roza.

He closes his eyes, opening them when he feels a feathery light touch against his cheek and opens his eyes to find Roza's dark brown ones. She smiles at him and he leans down to kiss her just because he can.

They lay there for a few more moments, basking in each other's presence and talk about everything and nothing – well, everything besides Tasha.

A little while later, Roza says that they should wake Christian and get going and Dimitri reluctantly lets go of her, but he thinks he can't actually let go of _her_ this time.

* * *

He finds it kind of uncanny that just when he starts catching himself referring to Rose as Roza in his head – a habit he had previously worked so hard to break, that Tasha suddenly gets a little weird around him.

She starts going less and less to places where she knows the entire group will be gathered, and stops kissing him at night before they pull their covers up and she doesn't once try to touch him beyond what's necessary and he starts to wonder if he's becoming just that obvious about these feelings that he wishes so badly he didn't feel.

And when he asks her about it, driven by the courage he can only find in the darkness of the night in their bedroom with the shades pulled shut, she smiles at him ruefully and shakes her head.

"It's nothing," she tells him, before burying her face back in her pillow.

And he goes another night, he realizes, without a good night kiss.

* * *

Just as Tasha is getting into bed, he tells her that he's picked up a few shifts around court and has guard duty for the night before slipping out of their condo.

He walks across court to Rose's apartment in a hurry, his feet moving as fast as they can without it looking too suspicious, and knocks once before she opens the door. Immediately, he wraps his arms around her and kisses her and kisses her, but he can feel her holding back, not letting go all the way.

He pulls back from her as they walk towards her bed, and asks her what's wrong.

"I just … I feel so guilty. All the time. She doesn't deserve this." And she says _she _because she just can't bear to bring up Tasha's name while their doing all of … this.

He nods, he knows the feeling too well. But then he tells her, "I'm going to tell her soon. I really will."

And she nods, but then bites her lip. "You only have four more days until you guys leave again."

"I'll tell her before then." He tells her, feeling determination building within him.

"But then what will you do? She's your charge, too." She retorts, her forehead creased with worry.

"I'll apply to become a court guard, like we once planned." He tells her, bringing up the conversation they'd had that day in the cabin - the day before he left – and he smoothes her forehead with his fingers.

She smacks his fingers away from her, but keeps his body close. "But then Tasha won't have anyone to guard her."

He nods, he's thought about that too. And he's felt even worse about all of this. "Rose, I've told you this before – sometimes, _you _have to come first. We have to come first. They can't _always_ be first."

And she nods her head reluctantly before pulling him down to her, their conversation forgotten.

* * *

It's the day before their supposed to leave – him and Tasha – and in a show of great cowardice, he still hasn't told Tasha about anything.

Rose hasn't said anything to him since the other night, but he can feel her distancing herself from him, preparing herself for the worst the way she always does and he knows this is the only way he can assure that he won't leave again – that he truly is_ hers_ now.

He finally gathers all of his courage as Tasha's packing her things into her suitcase, and he takes a seat in the small couch next to her.

It's killing him to do this, and he wishes with all he has that didn't have to because despite all that he's done, he really does love Tasha Ozera, and he hates himself for doing this to her.

He clears his throat and she looks up at him, her face holding an emotion he can't pinpoint. "Tasha, I need to talk to you."

She sighs, as if she's been expecting this, and turns towards him, her clothes abandoned momentarily. "I know, Dimitri."

Her using his full name catches him off-guard, but he looks at quizzically, wondering _what_ she knows. Her next question answers his.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

The question is so small, so simple, but he doesn't have an answer for it. Why didn't he tell her? He doesn't know.

Because he'd wanted to forget about Rose. Because he had hoped being with Tasha would have made him forget.

But he doesn't tell her that; he just hangs his head in shame.

"You don't …" her voice wavers, and he wants so badly to just hold her hand, offer her comfort. But he knows he's probably the last person she'd seek comfort from now. "You've _never_ looked at me the way you look at her. I don't know how I didn't catch on to that sooner. And when I saw how you were around her, ever since we came here I just … I knew."

He hears her sniffle and he closes his eyes because this is the hardest thing he's done in a long time.

She clears her throat as he opens his eyes again, and she wipes her tears away with her long, slender fingers. "I'm going to go home tomorrow," she tells him, "alone."

He nodded, leaning down and dropping his lips to her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Tasha."

She leaned into him, nodding. "Me too, Dimka."

And then she went back to her clothes, folding and packing, and he took that as his cue to leave.

* * *

In the past few days, when he'd thought about coming cleaning to Tasha, he had imagined he'd go straight to Rose, and kiss her senseless and for once, _not_ feel guilty for it.

But at the moment, he couldn't find it in him to be rejoicing. He felt heartbroken. Not for himself, but for what he'd done to someone he had considered his best friend – the person who'd been closest to him in the past few years.

So instead, he went to the Guardian Office and spent two hours filling out paper work for a new job in court and releasing himself, officially, as Tasha Ozera's guardian.

And then he spent a few hours sipping a cup of coffee at the café in court, the one he'd last visited with Rose, and read his torn, weathered copy of _Lonesome Dove_, losing himself in the beautiful world of Woodrow and Gus; really, he just needed to spend a little while alone.

That is, until he feels someone slide into the booth next to him. He looks up to find his favorite pair of chocolate brown eyes shining with a muted excitement, and sets his book down.

Rose grabs his hand, lacing her fingers with his, "Are you okay?"

He shakes his head. "No," he tells her, honestly.

She scoots in closer to him, and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her in even closer, breathing her in.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, "That must have been hard."

He nods, "It was …" and then he squeezes her fingers in his hand because despite his sadness, and despite the heart ache he feels - he regrets nothing. He doesn't for a second regret _finally_ choosing her, so he tells her: "but it was worth it."

She bites her lip and he knows that even though now he can finally be with her, _really_ be with her, their issues are far from over when she says, "Are you sure, Dimitri?"

He brushes her lips with his, "Of course I'm sure, Roza. I am in love with you."

And when she smiles, her lips spreading beautifully across her stunning face and says, "Well that's good, Comrade, because I am _so_ in love with you," he knows that no matter what, they'll be okay.

* * *

**a/n:** too cheesy? too OC? let me know what you thought :)


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